Hockey is different from the other money sports. While the rest of America is divided by six degrees of separation, the hockey universe works on two. I am reminded of this everytime I take my kid to play at Sharks Ice. As the Peewees and Bantams file on the ice, the San Jose Sharks file off, and 12-year-olds come face-to-face with hall-of-famers. Keep working hard, Larry Robinson once told my kid, as they passed each other at the boards.
For a very long time, Yost offered just such a microcosm of the hockey universe: public-skate coexisted with legends. Thank you, Red Berenson.
That's much better than my Harbaugh story. I ran into him in February 2011 at V. Madrone winery, which is between Calistoga and St. Helena in Napa Valley, just over the hill from where I live. Unlike much of tourist-ridden Napa Valley, V. Madrone is a tasting-by-reservation-only winery. Harbaugh had just accepted the San Francisco job. I introduced myself and told him about my Michigan connections, and about being at the infamous Minnesota game in 1987. I said I was disappointed he wouldn't be on the sideline in Ann Arbor in the fall. He smiled, said that Ann Arbor is a great place, and went on tasting his Petite Syrah and Cabernet. His wife was beautiful. That is what I remember most.
My two cents, earned from the 12 years I've been a Michigan emigre in Sonoma County.
1. Take the dungeon tour at Castello di Amoroso (between Calistoga and St. Helena on 128). It ends with a wine tasting, but they'll put out grape juice for the kids. It's fun for adults and kids.
2. The Bale Grist Mill, just south of Calistoga on 128. It was out of commission a few weeks ago when I took my kids, but they still got to play with the corn shucker. I learned a lot about flour, which was not as boring as I expected.
3. Mount St. Helena trail (trailhead at pass between Calistoga and Middletown). It's a 3-hour slog to the top with kids in tow, but well worth the scenery. There's an the entrance to an old silver mine less than a mile in which makes for a less ambitious hike.
4. Tasting at Preston Winery in Dry Creek Valley (north of Healdsburg). This is the most family friendly tasting room I've encountered. Preston is a working farm; they make cheese and bread in addition to wine. Kids can wander among the chickens and goats, and in April pick strawberries. Their table wine is very good, and it's far enough off the beaten track it won't be crowded outside of harvest season. Nearby is the Lake Sonoma fishery (at foot of dam at northern edge of valley). Kids can feed the fish, and tour a small wildlife display.
5. Sonoma Square. This used to be our usual Saturday morning routine when the kids were little. It has duck ponds, play structures, and there are several good places to buy coffee and croissants on the perimeter of the square: Sunflower Cafe, Basque Boulangerie, etc. This is California at its best. At the northeast corner of the square is General Vallejo's barracks, where the California Republic was proclaimed.
I think Brian's reasoning is flawed on a different front as well. Isn't Appalachian State jumping to the FBS in 2014? That means Michigan could finish 124 out of 124 in TFLs.
I think Brian's reasoning is flawed on a different front as well. Isn't Appalachian State jumping to the FBS in 2014? That means Michigan could finish 124 out of 124 in TFLs.
The Russian word for horseradish (хрен) is slang for penis. Is that the meaning Maize and Blue Nation was invoking in its description of the PI no-call on Funchess? Or should I assume that the no-call burned the nostrils, and left us groping for a glass of milk before the inevitable sneeze?
Russian River released the 2012 vintage earlier this week, amid considerable crowds. Kegs only, so you may have to roadtrip it.
Pliny lacks the New Yorker imprimatur that Dogfish got a few years ago, but it has inspired many a local, Sonoma vintner. Good wine, they say, is made with lots of beer.
This college prof doesn't believe any university--MSU, UM, or otherwise--should be in the business of teaching students how to read. So Plaxico may have a point. In prison, reading is taught (and there's ample time to do it). In university, reading--or more precisely, the ability to do so--is assumed.
. . . but residual MSU anger might better be directed against OSU. If Tressel had confessed his sins at the first opportunity last season, MSU likely would have ended the season in Pasadena, as it had the head-to-head tie-breaker with Wisky in a scenario where OSU vacated all wins. That makes Dantonio's stubborn loyalty to Tressel all the more perplexing. His so-called friend and mentor screwed him.
. . . It's the guy who ran Shaman Drum bookstore back in the 80s. Strange . . . . he hasn't aged at all. Stranger . . . he didn't strike me as a football type.
Jerel Worthy's comments about respect resonate among the MSU family because they play upon longstanding resentments that go far beyond the football field. MSU students want the world to know that they are intelligent too (hence the curious fact that there appear to be more persons "admitted" to Michigan in East Lansing than in Ann Arbor). MSU donors and alumni begrudge the fact Michigan is the favored child in Lansing, Washington, and other places that matter. And the MSU football team, as we became painfully aware today, is angry about playing in the shadow of the winningest program in the country. If nothing else, Mark Dantonio deserves credit for stoking that anger, because it has proven deadly effective on a certain Saturday every October. Frankly, if we could somehow quantify anger, it's hard to see how Michigan matches that anytime in the near future. To whom would Michigan direct its all-consuming derision? Berkeley? The private (snobby) Ivies? Ohio State?
So, Jerel Worthy and Mark Dantonio, please believe me when I say that I do not disrespect you. Your Spartans kicked my beloved alma mater's ass today. I am duly chastened. Your football team is better than mine. Trust me too when I say that I do not joke at your university's expense. It is a fine institution, filled with beautiful women, buildings, and many excellent academic programs. Nor have I ever called you "little brother." I use that exotic, unusual phrase only to refer to . . . well . . . my daughter's younger brother . . . er, my son.
So I ask you to please be gracious in victory. Do not denigrate your vanquished opponent. Do not celebrate the thuggishness of one of your own who momentarily lost his cool. Most of all, remember that one day you and yours will undoubtedly feel as miserable as the Michigan family feels today. Such is the logic and beauty of sport.
I didn't attend any of the games last week (Michigan alumni fielded teams in two age brackets), but I've seen Berenson play a few times in past years at Snoopy's Home Ice. He's one of the highlights of the tournament, both on the ice and at the tourney's social events. He's still got plenty of NHL moves. He's also been known to protest--humorously--any game schedule that interferes with his dinner plans.
By the way, last year at least, the University of Michigan 65+ team was, in truth, a team of alumni and friends. There was even a former Spartan that skated with an M on his chest. Nevertheless, the crowd sang the "Victors" after every Michigan goal, and there were a lot of goals in the drubbing I witnessed.
It's all great fun. If you ever find yourself wine tasting in Sonoma County in early July, be sure to stay sober enough for Michigan hockey.
. . . the fact that Mikhail Suslov has reincarnated himself in Brian, so as to tell us what sorts of comments are appropriate, and what are not, lest we hurt Ryan Van Bergen's feelings. Clearly, I lack the wisdom, moral fortitude, and love-of-Michigan to do this myself.
I sip Napa's forgotten varietal as I watch the sun slip behind Mayacamas and Michigan's hockey season. I toast the fact that, even in the depth of my grief, I have the wiener races at Golden Gate Fields to look forward to.
. . . the extent to which quality of life plays a role in coaches' decisions to move. In my mind, Ann Arbor would be a much, much more attractive place to live than Starkville, Mississippi. It has Zingerman's, afterall. Not to mention hockey. But Palo Alto? Only the most obstinate of Michigan patriots could insist that the idea of life on a big salary in the San Francisco area isn't seductive.
. . . was to follow the University of Chicago. Abolish division 1 football. Gentlemen should not sully themselves on the gridiron, or at least, only do so against Carnegie-Mellon and MIT.
(In truth, I have no idea who Chicago's opponents are.)
. . . that diverts attention from the fact that Michigan, because of relatively high fees, a large out-of-state contingent, and a rich endowment is less dependent on state funds than comparable public institutions like Berkeley and UCLA, or in-state counterparts like MSU. In that sense, it reflects the political calculus in Michigan that students should pay a comparably larger proportion on what it costs to educate them than in states like California, where tuition has historically been low. As Yooper indicates, public generosity in California regarding higher ed (codified in what is called the Master Plan) has been scaled back in recent years with a series of draconian fee increases. There's even been talk of introducing a clear funding hierarchy to the UC system, where Berkeley, UCLA, and UCSD would be identified as "flagships," and thus given the ability to set their own fees.
Right on! Not to be snarky, but nearly every thread--whatever the ostensible topic--begins with a profession of abiding loyalty or deep disdain for Rodriguez. So let me be the first to declare my Switzerland-like neutrality on that and all other coaching issues!
In California, JC transfers--for both athletes and non-athletes--are common. Curricula at the UC, CSU, and the community college system are designed to work in tandem, so core classes taken at a JC fulfill requirements at San Diego State or Berkeley, for that matter.
Although I'm two decades removed from Ann Arbor, I have no recollection of ever meeting anyone who tranferred in from a JC. (I ran into a lot of prep school kids, but they were from the snooty, blue-blood schools back east.) It might be the case that the Michigan baccalaureate is not designed to accomodate transfers. That's not to say that it's impossible, I just don't think it's very common.
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That's a beautiful post.
Hockey is different from the other money sports. While the rest of America is divided by six degrees of separation, the hockey universe works on two. I am reminded of this everytime I take my kid to play at Sharks Ice. As the Peewees and Bantams file on the ice, the San Jose Sharks file off, and 12-year-olds come face-to-face with hall-of-famers. Keep working hard, Larry Robinson once told my kid, as they passed each other at the boards.
For a very long time, Yost offered just such a microcosm of the hockey universe: public-skate coexisted with legends. Thank you, Red Berenson.
Was also from St. Joseph.
I realize this is ancient history.
That's much better than my Harbaugh story. I ran into him in February 2011 at V. Madrone winery, which is between Calistoga and St. Helena in Napa Valley, just over the hill from where I live. Unlike much of tourist-ridden Napa Valley, V. Madrone is a tasting-by-reservation-only winery. Harbaugh had just accepted the San Francisco job. I introduced myself and told him about my Michigan connections, and about being at the infamous Minnesota game in 1987. I said I was disappointed he wouldn't be on the sideline in Ann Arbor in the fall. He smiled, said that Ann Arbor is a great place, and went on tasting his Petite Syrah and Cabernet. His wife was beautiful. That is what I remember most.
My two cents, earned from the 12 years I've been a Michigan emigre in Sonoma County.
1. Take the dungeon tour at Castello di Amoroso (between Calistoga and St. Helena on 128). It ends with a wine tasting, but they'll put out grape juice for the kids. It's fun for adults and kids.
2. The Bale Grist Mill, just south of Calistoga on 128. It was out of commission a few weeks ago when I took my kids, but they still got to play with the corn shucker. I learned a lot about flour, which was not as boring as I expected.
3. Mount St. Helena trail (trailhead at pass between Calistoga and Middletown). It's a 3-hour slog to the top with kids in tow, but well worth the scenery. There's an the entrance to an old silver mine less than a mile in which makes for a less ambitious hike.
4. Tasting at Preston Winery in Dry Creek Valley (north of Healdsburg). This is the most family friendly tasting room I've encountered. Preston is a working farm; they make cheese and bread in addition to wine. Kids can wander among the chickens and goats, and in April pick strawberries. Their table wine is very good, and it's far enough off the beaten track it won't be crowded outside of harvest season. Nearby is the Lake Sonoma fishery (at foot of dam at northern edge of valley). Kids can feed the fish, and tour a small wildlife display.
5. Sonoma Square. This used to be our usual Saturday morning routine when the kids were little. It has duck ponds, play structures, and there are several good places to buy coffee and croissants on the perimeter of the square: Sunflower Cafe, Basque Boulangerie, etc. This is California at its best. At the northeast corner of the square is General Vallejo's barracks, where the California Republic was proclaimed.
Have fun. There's plenty to do here with kids.
I think Brian's reasoning is flawed on a different front as well. Isn't Appalachian State jumping to the FBS in 2014? That means Michigan could finish 124 out of 124 in TFLs.
I think Brian's reasoning is flawed on a different front as well. Isn't Appalachian State jumping to the FBS in 2014? That means Michigan could finish 124 out of 124 in TFLs.
The Russian word for horseradish (хрен) is slang for penis. Is that the meaning Maize and Blue Nation was invoking in its description of the PI no-call on Funchess? Or should I assume that the no-call burned the nostrils, and left us groping for a glass of milk before the inevitable sneeze?
. . . Wine Country Weekend.
Come if you can.
Twas not such when I was a wee one.
I don't like sharing the perks of life in Sonoma County with Chicagoans! First you take our beer. What's next? Wine? You cannot have our wine!
. . . also features highlighter yellow, not to mention a very un-Michigan-ish pale blue. UCLA, it makes me think.
Russian River released the 2012 vintage earlier this week, amid considerable crowds. Kegs only, so you may have to roadtrip it.
Pliny lacks the New Yorker imprimatur that Dogfish got a few years ago, but it has inspired many a local, Sonoma vintner. Good wine, they say, is made with lots of beer.
This college prof doesn't believe any university--MSU, UM, or otherwise--should be in the business of teaching students how to read. So Plaxico may have a point. In prison, reading is taught (and there's ample time to do it). In university, reading--or more precisely, the ability to do so--is assumed.
. . . but residual MSU anger might better be directed against OSU. If Tressel had confessed his sins at the first opportunity last season, MSU likely would have ended the season in Pasadena, as it had the head-to-head tie-breaker with Wisky in a scenario where OSU vacated all wins. That makes Dantonio's stubborn loyalty to Tressel all the more perplexing. His so-called friend and mentor screwed him.
. . . It's the guy who ran Shaman Drum bookstore back in the 80s. Strange . . . . he hasn't aged at all. Stranger . . . he didn't strike me as a football type.
Or did Kim Jong-il go into emigration?
Jerel Worthy's comments about respect resonate among the MSU family because they play upon longstanding resentments that go far beyond the football field. MSU students want the world to know that they are intelligent too (hence the curious fact that there appear to be more persons "admitted" to Michigan in East Lansing than in Ann Arbor). MSU donors and alumni begrudge the fact Michigan is the favored child in Lansing, Washington, and other places that matter. And the MSU football team, as we became painfully aware today, is angry about playing in the shadow of the winningest program in the country. If nothing else, Mark Dantonio deserves credit for stoking that anger, because it has proven deadly effective on a certain Saturday every October. Frankly, if we could somehow quantify anger, it's hard to see how Michigan matches that anytime in the near future. To whom would Michigan direct its all-consuming derision? Berkeley? The private (snobby) Ivies? Ohio State?
So, Jerel Worthy and Mark Dantonio, please believe me when I say that I do not disrespect you. Your Spartans kicked my beloved alma mater's ass today. I am duly chastened. Your football team is better than mine. Trust me too when I say that I do not joke at your university's expense. It is a fine institution, filled with beautiful women, buildings, and many excellent academic programs. Nor have I ever called you "little brother." I use that exotic, unusual phrase only to refer to . . . well . . . my daughter's younger brother . . . er, my son.
So I ask you to please be gracious in victory. Do not denigrate your vanquished opponent. Do not celebrate the thuggishness of one of your own who momentarily lost his cool. Most of all, remember that one day you and yours will undoubtedly feel as miserable as the Michigan family feels today. Such is the logic and beauty of sport.
Was there anything your editor removed from the book to protect the press from the possibility of libel litigation?
If yes, did that section concern Lloyd Carr's relationship with Les Miles?
3rd Movement.
I didn't attend any of the games last week (Michigan alumni fielded teams in two age brackets), but I've seen Berenson play a few times in past years at Snoopy's Home Ice. He's one of the highlights of the tournament, both on the ice and at the tourney's social events. He's still got plenty of NHL moves. He's also been known to protest--humorously--any game schedule that interferes with his dinner plans.
By the way, last year at least, the University of Michigan 65+ team was, in truth, a team of alumni and friends. There was even a former Spartan that skated with an M on his chest. Nevertheless, the crowd sang the "Victors" after every Michigan goal, and there were a lot of goals in the drubbing I witnessed.
It's all great fun. If you ever find yourself wine tasting in Sonoma County in early July, be sure to stay sober enough for Michigan hockey.
. . . the fact that Mikhail Suslov has reincarnated himself in Brian, so as to tell us what sorts of comments are appropriate, and what are not, lest we hurt Ryan Van Bergen's feelings. Clearly, I lack the wisdom, moral fortitude, and love-of-Michigan to do this myself.
. . . all of Michigania is divided into three parts:
Those who complain about Rodriguez.
Those who complain about those who complain about Rodriguez.
Those who complain about all the complaining.
I sip Napa's forgotten varietal as I watch the sun slip behind Mayacamas and Michigan's hockey season. I toast the fact that, even in the depth of my grief, I have the wiener races at Golden Gate Fields to look forward to.
. . . whomever LSU wants to hire to replace Miles.
That'll teach them not to try to confuse us with reverse psychology.
. . . the extent to which quality of life plays a role in coaches' decisions to move. In my mind, Ann Arbor would be a much, much more attractive place to live than Starkville, Mississippi. It has Zingerman's, afterall. Not to mention hockey. But Palo Alto? Only the most obstinate of Michigan patriots could insist that the idea of life on a big salary in the San Francisco area isn't seductive.
. . . was to follow the University of Chicago. Abolish division 1 football. Gentlemen should not sully themselves on the gridiron, or at least, only do so against Carnegie-Mellon and MIT.
(In truth, I have no idea who Chicago's opponents are.)
Faculty.
How many of those freshly signed organ-donation forms have been executed since Saturday because of a rash of grief-induced suicides?
. . . have one ass? Does the ass in question refer to a horse of ill repute? A slutty horse? A donkey owned by the aforementioned horses?
. . . does not know Zizek from Chex Mix. And in the mind of this empiricist, that's a compliment to Bill Martin.
. . . that diverts attention from the fact that Michigan, because of relatively high fees, a large out-of-state contingent, and a rich endowment is less dependent on state funds than comparable public institutions like Berkeley and UCLA, or in-state counterparts like MSU. In that sense, it reflects the political calculus in Michigan that students should pay a comparably larger proportion on what it costs to educate them than in states like California, where tuition has historically been low. As Yooper indicates, public generosity in California regarding higher ed (codified in what is called the Master Plan) has been scaled back in recent years with a series of draconian fee increases. There's even been talk of introducing a clear funding hierarchy to the UC system, where Berkeley, UCLA, and UCSD would be identified as "flagships," and thus given the ability to set their own fees.
Rare Tremor, Caused by Spartans' Dominating Defense, Leads to Missed Illini Conversion, Even Rarer Michigan Win.
Doh! I thought some film director named Adrian had improved on Lawrence Kasdan's classic about Michigan alumni.
Right on! Not to be snarky, but nearly every thread--whatever the ostensible topic--begins with a profession of abiding loyalty or deep disdain for Rodriguez. So let me be the first to declare my Switzerland-like neutrality on that and all other coaching issues!
Is that his contractual severance? The NCAA judgment gives cause to fire without severance, in my humble opinion?
In California, JC transfers--for both athletes and non-athletes--are common. Curricula at the UC, CSU, and the community college system are designed to work in tandem, so core classes taken at a JC fulfill requirements at San Diego State or Berkeley, for that matter.
Although I'm two decades removed from Ann Arbor, I have no recollection of ever meeting anyone who tranferred in from a JC. (I ran into a lot of prep school kids, but they were from the snooty, blue-blood schools back east.) It might be the case that the Michigan baccalaureate is not designed to accomodate transfers. That's not to say that it's impossible, I just don't think it's very common.
From Michigan? Yes. But clearly I've been gone long enough to have lost those Midwestern vowel pronunciations. Deracination is a sad thing.
When Hagerup fell
foul bile overflowed my spleen
into my warm beer.